


It’s Too Cliché

by Imagining_in_the_Margins



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Break Up, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Jealousy, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, New Year's Eve, Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25115722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagining_in_the_Margins/pseuds/Imagining_in_the_Margins
Summary: Reader and Spencer are the worst at friends with benefits. After an exchange of gifts & nasty words, the two reunite on a very eventful NYE.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 161





	It’s Too Cliché

It had started just like this.

It was about a year ago when Spencer and I both made the stupid decision to drink at one of Rossi’s infamous dinner parties despite neither of us ever being able to handle alcohol.

I say it was stupid, but I never once regretted it.

This time, though, something felt different. When I was at the bar, trying to drink away something I don’t even remember now, I was so sure I wanted to go home with him. But now that he was here, his hands raking down my back and his breath smelling of beer instead of whiskey, I realized what was wrong.

He wasn’t Spencer.

Don’t be mistaken – I’d known he wasn’t Spencer when I saw him at the bar. Of course I recognized my ex-boyfriend and could distinguish him from my current… was _fuckbuddy_ too crude a word to describe Spencer?

Fuck, Spencer. That’s why this felt different; it felt wrong. Because my ex’s hands didn’t feel like his, and his lips didn’t kiss me like Spencer would. It hit me then, that these were the exact reasons why I was at the bar in the first place. It was Spencer I was trying to drink away, and it **didn’t fucking work**.

We’d agreed at the beginning that we wouldn’t be anything more than friends who slept together, but at some point over the past year I’d realized that “friends who sleep together” is actually pretty close to dating. In fact, it’s kind of exactly how I would describe dating.

It wasn’t until July 15th came, and we had both gotten each other a gift for a stupid ass holiday that Spencer had told me about, that I’d realized how completely and utterly fucked I was. It was bad enough that I got him something for National “Be a Dork Day,” but the fact he knew to get me one back…

I was still wearing the ring he bought me, even while another man’s hand was sliding up my shirt. I could still feel the care with which he’d slipped it on my finger while we lay in bed, like an unspoken promise. The thought made my stomach turn, and I knew immediately that it had nothing to do with the alcohol.

“Hey, can we slow down?” I slurred, clumsily pushing myself away from the man currently holding me down against his lap. “I don’t feel so hot.” 

“You seem pretty hot to me.” He joked back, and the tone of his voice caused a chill to spread down my spine.

“No, seriously, stop.” More forcefully now, I frantically shoved at him until I fell backwards, unceremoniously hitting the floor. I heard more than felt my head smash against the dresser against the wall, but I couldn’t even focus on the pain.

My ex was towering over me, waving his arms like a goddamn lunatic while he yelled, “What the fuck is your problem?!”

“ _My_ problem?” I spat back, struggling to stand on the ridiculous heels I’d insisted on wearing tonight.

“You were fine until five seconds ago!” 

Laughing to combat the adrenaline currently coursing through me, I shouted back at him at an even higher volume, “Well, I changed my fucking mind!”

“Sure, not until after I leave the bar and bring you all the way here.”

It was so hard to focus on his words, because every few seconds, the world would start rocking. His voice seemed so far away and muffled, even though he was right in front of me, screaming like he always did. I remembered why he was an ex, but it seemed like it was too late.

And apparently, he was thinking the same thing, because one of the few lines I heard with perfect clarity in his rant covered that exact subject. “You haven’t changed one bit. You’re still just a stupid fucking bitch.”

“Yep, that’s me. I’m a bitch.” I mumbled back, rubbing the back of my head, pleasantly surprised that there was no blood. Trying to avoid doing so much at glancing at him, I rifled through the things on his nightstand in the dark to find my purse.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Without even an ounce of hesitation, I snatched my purse, knocking several things down. “I’m leaving. Bye.” I announced, fumbling with the door that he’d apparently fucking locked despite being the only other person in the house. Or at least, I hoped he was the only other person. 

“You’re just going to show up again in a few weeks.” He sneered, and I could practically see his stupid fucking smirk. The image was one of many burned in my brain. I had told myself I’d never see it again.

Why the _fuck_ had I gone home with him?

Before I could answer my own question, the door finally burst open, nearly knocking me over again in the process. He laughed at my struggle, but I was already in the hallway before he could stop me.

“Then I’ll see you then, asshole!”

The door slamming behind me was the perfect finale to the chaos, and I immediately hurried out of his house, slamming the next door just as hard. I knew it was childish, but I felt like if I didn’t do something with the anger in my chest, it would devour me.

But once I was outside, I realized that I had to figure out what the hell I was going to do. I could call an Uber and just deal with the ride of shame, but… I didn’t want to. There was only one thing I wanted more than anything - it was the same fucking thing I’d told myself not to do.

So why was I already scrolling through my phone, desperately tapping my fingers against the screen before realizing that I couldn’t spell for shit in my current state. Scoffing at my own stupidity, I just dialed his number instead.

“(Y/n)? What’s up?” The second his voice hit my ears I felt my body relax. I didn’t even realize how tense I was until then. I hated it.

“Hey are you busy?” I quickly answered, trying to make my way to the curb and hoping that my ex decided to just let my ass freeze outside alone.

“Me? Am _I_ busy? Do I look like I’m hanging out with you?” Spencer was laughing, which I hated. Because every time he laughed, I would laugh, and every single time it reminded me just how much of my happiness revolved around him. And if history had taught me anything, it was that finding happiness in a person was the most dangerous pastime.

“No. Not yet, you don’t.” I joked back, completely ignoring that voice in my head reminding me that this had literally never worked out for me.

“Then no, I’m not busy.” He said through what sounded just like his smile, “Yet.”

Suddenly I didn’t feel sick anymore, although my stomach shook with butterflies now. It made me feel so stupid and naive, but I couldn’t help the way he made me forget everything that had just happened. He didn’t even know how often he’d saved me from the incessant spiraling of my mind.

“If I send you an address, can you come get me?” I finally worked up the courage to ask. Spencer responded with the completely reasonable question that unfortunately happened to be the last thing I wanted to hear.

“Sure. Where are you?”

“Yeah, about that…” I nervously chuckled, trying to convince myself that he might find it funny. Hoping to god that he’d find it funny. “It’s my ex boyfriend’s house.”

“… What?”

He did not find it funny, and I was ready to throw up again.

“It’s a long story. It’s stupid as shit.” My voice shook, my throat closing around the words as tears started stinging at my eyes before I could realize just how awful it felt. “I’ll tell you when you get here.”

“Right. Send me the address.”

I didn’t know why I felt so angry, but I was. Actually, that’s a lie. I knew exactly why I was mad. I was mad because Spencer was mad at me, and he thought I wouldn’t be able to tell. We were fucking profilers. “Are… Are you sure it’s okay? I can call an Uber, seriously.” I asked, hoping he would take the out so we wouldn’t have to argue in his car while I was drunk as fuck and still reeling from my piece-of-shit ex-boyfriend.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll be there soon.”

No dice. _Oh well_ , I thought, _how much worse can it get?_

“Than—“ I started to say, but before I could get the word out, the dial tone filled my ears. It sounded a lot like the ringing from earlier. It hurt just as badly, too.

Biting on my bottom lip to stop it from trembling, I sat alone in the dark for some undetermined amount of time. Although I could have put on my jacket to warm up, I didn’t. It was clear that I was just trying to punish myself for my choices. Although, in hindsight I didn’t need to.

Because once Spencer showed up, I quietly climbed into the passenger seat. I didn’t say anything because I was scared of what would come out. He didn’t try to change it, either. So, for the entire 30 minute drive to my apartment, we were silent.

It should have been comforting; everything about him usually brought with it such a peaceful serenity. But right now, it just hurt. It felt like I was trapped in a car that was on fire, holding my breath to prevent myself from dying by smoke inhalation before the flames ever even hit my skin.

But eventually, I had to breathe. We were seconds away from our destination, and I could have waited. I should have waited. But the thought of leaving him fuming in his car, alone and driving in the opposite direction was just as scary as staying to watch it all burn.

“Okay. You’re obviously mad at me, so are you going to say something?” I blurted out, staring straight ahead at the familiar building.

“Did you fuck that guy?”

I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to pick the right words, but knowing that they weren’t the ones that would come out, anyway. “If I’d fucked him, Spencer, I would still be inside. You know that.”

“Actually, I don’t know that. I don’t know you at all.”

Attempting to dislodge the lump in my throat, I swallowed spit that still tasted like alcohol. “Stop being overdramatic.” I whined, acting like any of this was his fault.

“Why didn’t you fuck him?” He still hadn’t looked at me, his eyes transfixed ahead of us.

I knew that it was finally time for me to face the facts. “What? What kind of question is that?” My words were slurred and broken, but I was looking at him now.

He didn’t follow my lead, his eyes falling to his hands on the wheel that tightened with each passing second. “Answer the question.”

“I just didn’t want to!” I didn’t mean to yell, but my brain was still back in that shitty apartment with that asshole. I hadn’t caught up yet. I shouldn’t have yelled at him.

Spencer ran his hand through his hair then over his face, putting the car into park before slumping forward on the wheel. “Well, you went home with him, so clearly you wanted to do something.” He looked so defeated, so ready to give up that it set off all the alarms in my head.

I was so tired of him not looking at me. “I didn’t call you for a goddamn interrogation.” When even that didn’t make him look up, I shook the handle on the car door until it eventually popped open. I was too tired to even bother being graceful about it.

Although he still didn’t look at me, it did succeed in getting him to do _something_ , because he just as quickly exited the car. “Why _did_ you call me?” He called over the hood.

I spun around on my heels to meet his eyes, and what I found was terrifying. It was… Apathy.

“Because you’re my friend, I thought!” I croaked, clutching my chest like it would make the pain go away.

“JJ and Emily are your friends too, and they’re significantly closer.”

Crossing in front of the car, I stood in front of him, lowering my voice again. “What are you implying?”

His nose twitched as he rolled his lips between his teeth, looking away from me again when he answered, “I’m not implying anything. I’m making an inference.”

“Well state your fucking inference, Spencer.” I shot back without hesitation.

Looking back, I wish I hadn’t. I wish that I had turned and walked inside right then, letting his thoughts stay bottled up. We would’ve forgotten about the incident in a week. We would’ve both gotten lonely again and tumbled into each other’s arms the next time there was a bad day at work.

But I fucked it up, just like I always do. Because I wanted to make him hate me, so that I could hate him. Because if I hated him, then he couldn’t hurt me anymore.

Or at least, that’s what I thought.

Fed up with the game of cat and mouse, Spencer’s voice took on that warped hushed tone that accompanied only the worst kind of rage. “You either called me because while drunk, trying to **fuck** some other man, you realized that he wasn’t the person you _really_ wanted to be with, or you were trying to make me jealous.”

My heart stopped as he spoke, because I knew that it had to be some mix of the two. It always was with me. I couldn’t let us be happy. One of us _always_ had to hurt, because happiness was too scary.

“Really? The only two possible explanations both involve me being in love with you?” I said with a bitter laugh, crossing my arms over my chest. Judging by the way his eyes fell to them, Spencer knew it wasn’t from the cold.

Defensive. That’s what it was.

“Neither of those require love.” He pointed out quietly, almost like the conclusion hurt him more than it was meant to wound me.

“God, Spencer!” I yelled, grabbing my head that still ached from earlier, closing my eyes like it would stop this from hurting. “Stop talking in fucking riddles and just… Just—“

When no more words came out, I did the only thing I could think to do. My hands laced through hair, pulling him down to my level and connecting our lips.

And at first, he kissed me back. He channeled the same frustration that I felt and kissed me with everything he had. But after a few seconds, he tore himself away from me with such extreme force that I almost fell forward in his absence.

Once I’d steadied myself, I wrapped an arm around myself again. This time, it wasn’t because I felt defensive. It’s because now that he wasn’t touching me, I was so fucking cold. He was back to avoiding looking at me, his eyes stuck on the dirt at his feet.

“I can’t fucking do this.”

It wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation, although it was much more explicit this time.

“Yes, you can.” It was a beg more than a reassurance, my fingernails digging into my own arm. “You do this every time, but every time it’s—“

“No, I **can’t** do this anymore!” He snapped, turning to me to show me the tears that had started to stream down his face. There was no more apathy, just a pain that sickened me, my heart dropping to the pit of my stomach. “I’m not like you! I can’t just fuck someone a-and have it mean nothing!”

“You promised me!” I regretted being drunk during this conversation the most, because it meant that any thought came out of my mouth with a shrill, deafening sound. “Why are you trying to ruin everything?!”

“Ruin it? I’m not ruining anything, (y/n)!” He didn’t come close to matching my volume, but I heard the strain in his voice. The lights of the houses around us started to turn on, but all I could think about were the words flowing from his mouth with such incredible ease, I knew he’d been thinking them long before that night. “I’m not the one who changed things between us, and you know it.”

He raised a hand to his heart, but all I saw was the chain around his neck. I’d gotten so used to seeing it, I almost forgot to look for it. It was the aforementioned Be a Dork Day gift I’d gotten without knowing that he’d bought me a ring for the same occasion. I didn’t dare look at my hand, though.

But he’d already seen it. He had seen it on my hand, glinting under the streetlights, and he knew. Even if I hadn’t been wearing it, he would have been able to see the shallow indent on my finger where it had made itself comfortably at home. And in that suffocating moment that still smelled like fire, I was the first one of us to say the word we were both thinking, and it was in the worst possible context.

“Spencer, it’s not my fault that you fell in love with me.”

I swore that the residential street had never sounded nearly that quiet. Even the crickets and frogs were silent; the whole universe held its breath to see if he would deny the truth that we’d both known for a while.

“Me?” He asked, his eyebrows raised with an incredulity I didn’t appreciate. He almost laughed when he repeated, “It’s _just_ me? Really?”

I bit the inside of my cheek and tasted blood that still wasn’t as bitter as the next thing that came out of my mouth.

“…Yes.”

“Okay.” He said softly into the night, nodding with a thought he didn’t deign to share. “Okay, fine.” With that, Spencer stepped around me like I wasn’t even there, opening his car door.

“W-Where are you going?”

I didn’t want to yell anymore.

He stopped before he got inside the car, his shoulders moving slowly with deep breaths. “I’m leaving.” He concluded, apparently not finding me worthy of any more explanation.

“Fine!” I didn’t want to yell anymore, so why did I? The poison in my heart had bled into every other cell; it filled my lungs and burned my eyes. “Leave me then! Just like everyone else!”

I couldn’t see his face, but he winced at the words. “I don’t want to, but I don’t have any other options.” As he climbed into the car, the only thing we could hear was each other’s desperate sobs.

Before he slammed his door shut, I thought I heard him say that he was sorry.

—

‘ _Drinking again because I obviously never learn. What are you doing tonight?_ ’

It had been an hour since I sent him the text, and so far, there had been no indication that he’d even read it. Part of me was hoping that he hadn’t turned off his read receipts, because then at least I would know he wasn’t ignoring me. Either way, it still felt awful.

It’d been two months since the… incident. We never talked about it. And while I’d seen him constantly at work, things were different. While we still shared hotel rooms when we had to double up and more often than not, he sat next to me on the jet, we didn’t joke around like we used to, and he almost never spoke to me unless it was required. Even when he did, he was so _polite_. He never, _ever_ took a harsh mood with me. It was like he was compensating for hating me by treating me like a goddamn queen.

I hated it. First, it was obvious to everyone and embarrassing as hell. But that wasn’t what upset me the most; it was the fact that, again, he thought I wouldn’t know what he was doing. He thought that I would honestly believe his little facade, and I didn’t.

I knew he hated me. I would hate me, too. But no matter how annoyed or frustrated I was, I couldn’t bring myself to hate him. I wished I could. Things would be so much easier if I could hate him.

“So… are we going to talk about the elephant in the room, or…?” Emily started from her position across the table at the bar. When I looked up, I realized that all three of the women were currently staring at me.

I didn’t respond, though, just taking a sip from my straw like they weren’t talking about me. My eyes were stuck on Emily, burning into her with what I’d hoped was a clear indication of how I felt.

“Okay… Apparently not. My bad.” She relented, shrugging and turning to JJ with a look that seemed to say ‘ _Well, I tried._ ’

It irked me. “What are you talking about?” I enunciated each of the words, careful not to sound as drunk as I was planning on getting during this part of the conversation. I definitely didn’t need to give them any ammunition when it came to Spencer.

But it wasn’t Emily that spoke; it was Penelope.

“She’s talking about you and Reid hating each other suddenly after several months of you really, really… not… hating each other.”

The words felt like a knife had been twisted in my gut, and all I could see was the vague memory I had of that night. I remembered most of the words – at least, the ones that mattered. That wasn’t what plagued my thoughts, though; it was the way Spencer had looked while he was crying and telling me that he couldn’t be with me anymore.

The two other women at the table glared at Penelope’s super ungraceful way of prying into my love life, demonstrating to me that they had discussed the subject without my knowledge. I couldn’t be that surprised, although it was a bit annoying.

“Sorry. I blame the sugar.” Penelope rambled off, bowing her head to clutch her sugary cocktail and continue to avoid eye contact with the three profilers at the table.

Recognizing that it must be hard for her, that all of her closest friends were profilers, I tried to go easy on her. “Tch. We don’t hate each other.” I wrote off with a lazy wave of my hand, “And we didn’t… ‘really, really not hate each other,’ either. We were just friends.”

I noticed what I said too late, and JJ was quick to point it out with an unrivaled swiftness. “Were?”

Shit.

“Are. Whatever. Don’t read into that. We’re just friends.” I couldn’t tell if it was worse to be defensive or defeated, so I settled on a very unsatisfying mix of both. JJ wasn’t convinced, though, and she went in on me like I should have expected from Spencer’s best friend.

“Friends that buy each other jewelry? And share beds?”

Had they talked about me when I wasn’t there? Spencer wouldn’t do that, right? … Would he?

“I know for a fact that you’ve shared a bed with Emily.” I deadpanned, pointing an accusing finger at the woman to my right, although it was a weak argument.

“Not like that.” Emily replied with a laugh. They were being nice to me because they knew I had no leg to stand on. My relationship with Spencer had been anything but subtle. We’d made a show of it since the first day I flirted with him, which happened to be my first day on the job.

Looking back on those days, I always tried to pinpoint the exact moment things changed, but I could never locate it. I figured it was for the best. I shouldn’t have been thinking about that stuff anymore, anyway. So why were they making me?

“I’m sorry, I thought I was coming out for ladies’ night, not a goddamn intervention.” I sunk back in my seat, crossing my arms over myself in a hug more than a traditionally angry position.

God, what I would have given to have a hug from Spencer right then.

“We don’t have to talk about it, I’m just saying…” She was using her mom voice. “You’ve checked your phone six times in the past half hour, and you haven’t stopped touching your finger where that ring used to be.”

I cursed the psychology that made it harder for us to recognize our own tells. The whole night I had tried to keep my fingers off the spot where the ring used to be, but I guess I’d failed at that, too. It was hard; it felt like such a part of me at that point. Except now that part of me was sitting at home on my nightstand, staring back at me each night when I went to sleep. Spencer always wore his shirts with a tie, so I never knew if he still wore my necklace. I wasn’t going to ask; I didn’t want to know the answer. 

“What? It’s a nervous tic. So what?” I mumbled, unfolding my arms to rub the finger that was now itchy beyond belief. The more I thought about the absence of the ring, the more obvious the feeling became.

“Why are you nervous?” JJ’s eyes were burning into me with the same unrelenting passion that I’d shot at Emily. I decided that she and Spencer had definitely talked about it, and they had both thought I wouldn’t know.

That alone filled me with rage, and if I’d had a few more drinks in me at that point, I would have got up and left. But I didn’t, so instead I just shouted, “Geez! We said no profiling each other!”

“Fine. No more Reid talk tonight.” Emily caved, raising her hands in a showing of submission. JJ obviously didn’t want to let it go, but she did. But a part of me knew that she wasn’t doing it out of the kindness of her heart – she saw that she’d already accomplished her goal. She had wanted me to just woman up and text him again, rather than stare at my phone and hope that something would change.

And that’s exactly what I did. While the rest of the girls had started talking about some new show on Netflix (focusing mainly on the geographic and legal inaccuracies of the show), I was drunkenly trying to figure out what the fuck to text Spencer.

After almost 5 minutes of contemplation, I settled on something easy.

‘ _I understand if you’re mad at me. I just want to talk to you, I promise_.’

… And hated it immediately. Rubbing a heavy hand over my face, I cursed on noticing that I’d picked up yet another habit from Spencer. JJ shot me a knowing glance before continuing to distract the other two women who had yet to look my way.

‘ _And by talk, I mean apologize… in case that wasn’t obvious._ ’

I honestly thought it would work. I’d never had to fight for his attention before, so it was uncharted territory. But Spencer wasn’t the kind of guy to ignore a white flag – even if he was mad at you. I hoped he could read the sincerity in my voice and just give me a chance to explain myself.

But the night continued, and an hour later I still didn’t have any indication that he’d opened my messages. I had already cut myself off from alcohol, worried that the ladies would get looser as the night went on and insist that we discuss something I didn’t want to. In the end, they didn’t, too busy having fun while I sulked in the corner.

When I did stand up, they all looked to me, but didn’t object when I said I needed air. They knew where I was going, and I think they all hoped that I wouldn’t come back. Because if I didn’t come back, it meant that he had listened to me.

My finger hovered over the call button for a full thirty seconds before I decided I was too drunk to talk to him on the phone. I didn’t want him to hear me slur my words if he couldn’t see the look on my face to tell him that I was sober enough to apologize and really mean it.

That was the problem; I needed to see him. Not just because I was lonely and starved for his affection, but because I needed to see that he was okay, and I needed him to see that I wasn’t. Most of all, I needed to tell him I was sorry. I just wanted to say I was sorry.

‘ _Please don’t make me say it over text. You deserve better than that._ ’

Sometimes I was convinced that the universe was out to get me, and by sometimes, I mean most of the time. But never this much; this was just cruel. Because before I could even comprehend why the noise in front of me sounded so familiar, I was already staring up at the man in front of me, his name falling out of my mouth with no grace at all.

“Spencer?”

Like a deer in the headlights, he stood staring back at me, his phone in his hand with my messages open on his screen.

“… (Y/n)…”

I glanced down at my phone, seeing the small ‘ _Read 10:39_ ’ pop up. I bit down on my lip to stop them from curling into a smile. Spencer wasn’t ignoring me! He just hadn’t seen my messages! It made so much sense; the guy was probably just at the movies or something. 

“What are you doing here?” I asked, a hope and happiness still clear in my eyes and voice, no matter how hard I tried to bury it.

It didn’t last long.

Before Spencer could say anything, the answer pranced up to him in a sundress and his cardigan. She was laughing, barely even noticing me standing right in front of her.

“Hey.” It was the rudest I’d ever greeted anyone in my life, and I couldn’t find it in me to care. If she was going to date the guy that I drove away, she might as well have the decency to acknowledge my existence before ignoring me, right?

“Oh! Hello.”

 _Ugh_ , she sounded so sweet. So perfectly picked from the crowd of doll-like darlings that everyone thought Spencer would end up with. She was nothing like me – that’s for sure. Which is why instead of being rude back, she just tugged on the sleeve of his shirt.

“Spence, are you going to introduce us?” It was the question we both needed to snap out of the staring contest that we were all locked in. Spencer cleared his throat, not stopping the girl from wrapping her arm around his.

“Yeah, this is (y/n). We… work together.”

My face twitched at the description he chose. He didn’t even call us coworkers, he said we _worked together_. The distinction, while minute to some, meant everything to me. He wanted to separate us from an ‘ _us_ ’ so badly, he was willing to add unnecessary words.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” She said so happily that I had to shake the hand she held out to me.

“You too.” I lied through my teeth, avoiding Spencer’s eyes at all costs. “But don’t let me interrupt. Enjoy your date.”

Her tiny little figure bounced next to him, and I wondered if we ever looked like that.

“Thanks!” She chirped, starting to lead him away. It dawned on me that while she was being sweet, there was a jealousy and possessiveness she was trying to hide from me. Then again, I thought, maybe I was just seeing things I wanted to see. JJ and Spencer talking about me made sense, but I doubt he had told his…

Girlfriend. Spencer had a girlfriend. He had a girlfriend and she wasn’t me. No, I was still standing by myself outside a bar, clinging to my phone with a hand that felt naked without the ring he had given me. Which reminded me that he wasn’t wearing a tie.

“Oh, and Spencer—!“ I yelled out to him before he got too far away. Without even thinking about it, I had grabbed his other wrist. Both of them looked down at my hand, so comfortable on someone else’s man. I tore it back again just as quickly.

“I—“ The words caught in my throat when all the air vacated my lungs at once. Because I looked up, and in the few inches of skin of his partially unbuttoned shirt, I saw it.

He was wearing our necklace.

When he saw me staring, his eyes shifted away, the flushing in his face visible even in the dim streetlights. His hand twitched, but he held back the urge to fiddle with the small charm. “What’s up?” He asked, clearing his throat again.

“Uh, it’s nothing. I just… wanted to say that I’m sorry.” I nervously laughed, rubbing my eyes to prevent any tears from forming. Still, in the haze I saw him biting his lip, looking at me and seeing everything I didn’t want him to see. So, I put on my big girl pants and composed myself, shrugging nonchalantly as I explained, “You know, about that thing from earlier. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He immediately responded, his voice breathy and hushed. It was probably just wishful thinking, but I felt like he almost stayed. We never found out, though, because his girlfriend was tugging him away more insistently now, and he didn’t fight it anymore. He had gotten what he wanted, and I had done the thing I knew I needed to.

So why did I still feel so empty?

I didn’t stay much longer at the bar, and I didn’t dare tell the women what happened. Not that what I was doing at my house was much better than what I would have been doing at the bar. As the world spun around me, I thought about what he must be doing. I wondered how long they’d been together, and whether she was at his house with him.

Did she know about how he likes to read before he goes to sleep? Would the light bother her like it did me? Did he still have my old sleeping mask next to the bed? Would he read to her, like he used to read to me?

Did she know how lucky she was? 

It was suffocating, and my lowered inhibitions begged me to do something stupid. I wanted, no, _needed_ more information. So, knowing that his read receipts were still on, I sent him one more text.

‘ _I hope you had a good time. Lord knows you deserve it. Goodnight, Spencer._ ’

If he read or answered immediately, I would at least know that he wasn’t too busy with her to check his phone. If he didn’t… I didn’t want to think about it. And luckily, I didn’t have to. Almost immediately after the text was delivered, he had opened it.

I watched the dots appear and disappear, slowly dancing across my screen. I don’t know how long I laid like that, but eventually my eyes got heavy. Before I finally dozed off, though, I heard the soft swooping of a new message.

‘ _Goodnight, (y/n)._ ’

—

It had been almost exactly four months since I left (y/n)’s apartment that night, but I remembered the night with perfect clarity. She didn’t, but that was alright. It was probably for the best that she couldn’t recall the look on my face the same way hers was burned in my brain.

I hated it, that the last clear image of her that I had was something so horribly ugly. Not to say that she wasn’t beautiful – She was always the most beautiful girl in the world to me. But the frustration and heartbreak on her face that shone clearly through her tears– that was something I never wanted to see again.

But I really shouldn’t have been thinking about any of this, anyway. Because it was the first date night I’d had in weeks with my girlfriend. However, that didn’t make me think of (y/n) any less. Because although I’d told my girlfriend that I was busy with work last week, it wasn’t true. I think she knew that, too, but she had the decency not to mention it. It was just that I’d known that (y/n) was going out, and I hated the idea that if she called me, I wouldn’t be able to come.

Was that fucked up? I never could decide. (Y/n) was still my friend, after all. Of course I didn’t want her to get hurt. Then again, it probably wasn’t fair to abandon my girlfriend’s plans for that reason.

I sighed, running my hands through my hair as I leaned back on her couch, thankful that she wasn’t in the room to see my face reflect the conflict raging on in my head. Closing my eyes, I took in the unwelcome silence of the room. It didn’t last as long as it should have.

When the soft melody of my ringtone resounded through the room, I didn’t need to pick up the phone to know who it was. I didn’t even say hello, just answering it and waiting to hear what she had to say. Part of me hoped that she would just hang up, deciding that it wasn’t serious enough to warrant a return call if she thought it didn’t go through.

That didn’t happen.

“Spencer?“ Her voice was trembling, the two syllables tumbling from her tongue, clumsy and broken.

“Is everything alright?” I spoke quietly, but with what I’d hoped was an obvious concern.

“C-Can you come get me?”

The request immediately struck fear in my heart ; I was scared the organ might stop completely. It was already rare enough that she tried to talk to me at all, but the way she whispered the question through what sounded like tears made my blood run cold.

“What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

“I did something stupid and now I just… I really need you to come get me. Please.” She begged, her sobs more audible and her breath too quick and shallow to be safe. “I’m really scared.”

I looked over to the hallway, hearing footsteps come to a halt just out of my sight. Unfortunately for my girlfriend, her shadow was still visible in the doorway. I knew she was waiting, trying to hear what I’d say when she thought I wasn’t aware of her presence. The thing was, I would have said the same thing either way. 

“It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” I reassured her, my negotiator voice bleeding through, “Tell me where you are.”

“I-I’m at… at a parking lot by Spirits.”

The most painful part of her sentence was the long pause as she no doubt scanned her surroundings to figure out where she was. It was obvious she’d either had way too much to drink, or something else was really wrong. Neither of those options provided me even the smallest amount of comfort.

“I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

She was crying too hard to respond.

“You’re going to be alright. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The line cut off before anything else was said, which just made my chest hurt more. There were so many reasons she might have hung up. Her phone might even be dead, and with her as drunk as she was, I didn’t know how long I actually had to find her before she wandered off. So I didn’t wait, gathering my things from the table when I heard a voice that made me freeze. 

“What’s going on?” My girlfriend asked, trying, and failing, to sound innocent. She knew what was going on just from my end of the conversation. I didn’t want to explain it.

“I… have to go.” I said, finally convincing my body to move again and grabbing my satchel off the back of the chair. When I turned around to see her, she was glaring at me, waiting for an explanation. I didn’t have time. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I can’t explain right now.” Turning to leave, I made it all the way to the door, my hand on the knob when she spoke again.

“… it’s (y/n), isn’t it?”

I swallowed, knowing there was a better way to handle this but not caring enough to put in the effort. “It doesn’t matter.” I whispered, clearing my throat and keeping my eyes forward.

“Yes, it does.” She said more sternly. I could tell she wanted me to turn around, and I figured I owed her that much. What I found was exactly what I expected; she stood with her arms crossed and tears in her eyes. 

It occurred to me that being in this relationship was one of the most selfish and unfair things I’d ever done. And the only person who made me feel deeply enough to bring out those awful parts of me was (y/n). 

I wanted to feel bad for my girlfriend, but there were much more disturbing visions in my head. (Y/n) was alone, drunk, and sobbing in a parking lot. She was scared. I couldn’t leave her there like that, no matter how pitiful my girlfriend looked or how much of an asshole it made me to choose the girl who’d been too scared to admit her feelings for me and had a remarkable talent for making me feel unwanted. In contrast, my girlfriend cared about me, wanted to be with me, and I’d doled out the same treatment to her that I’d so detested enduring.

“Can we talk about this later?”

While not what was she was hoping for, I think she knew it was coming. Her shoulders fell in defeat. “As long as that’s where your priorities lie, Spence.” She sounded so far away. It would take a lot of effort to apologize for this, and I was willing to do it. Just… not now.

“That’s not…” A breath shuddered from my lungs as I realized I didn’t have an objection. She chuckled bitterly at the look on my face, knowing just as well as I did that the priority wasn’t going to change tonight, or any other time soon. “I don’t want to argue about this.” My eyes finally fell from her, turning back to the door. I wasn’t sure why I said it, but as the door opened, I tried one more time to justify my decision. “I promise I can explain. I’ll come back later.”

But when she spoke, she said exactly what I expected, and what I wrongfully hoped for.

“Don’t bother.”

I couldn’t waste another second worrying about whether I still had a girlfriend or how I would get her to forgive me at this point – I had to get to (y/n). Luckily, it was a much shorter drive from her place than it would have been otherwise. Part of me hoped that (y/n) would realize where I’d come from, although that also made me feel bad.

What would have been the point? Did I want her to feel jealous? Did I want her to picture me with another woman? Or did I want her to know that I was with my girlfriend because I wanted her to know that I would drop anything for her when she needed me? Probably all of the above.

As I pulled into the parking lot that I figured (y/n) had referred to, I heard the commotion before I ever laid eyes on her. At first, I struggled to identify why the sounds made me so uneasy, but once I heard the distinct, high-pitched shattering of a beer bottle against the pavement, I knew why.

I turned in the direction of the sound and I saw her. She had her arms raised over her head, defensively turned away from the man in front of her. He was red-faced and slurring incomprehensible words at an alarming volume, drowning out the low pulsing of music from the club behind them. And despite being an agent in a field where people are regularly in danger, I experienced a rather annoying phenomenon.

People often talk about the fight or flight instinct, but there’s more to it than that. There are actually four Fs: Fight, flight, freeze, and fawn. All but the last are fairly self-explanatory, and I was currently struggling with the third.

(Y/n) appeared to be stuck on the fourth.

To fawn is to comply with the danger in an attempt to save yourself. It usually only happens when running and fighting are no longer an option. When had that happened? When in the past few months had he managed to convince the lively girl that I loved that the only thing she could do was lie down and accept the abuse?

A sudden burst of adrenaline spiked through my blood at the sight of a cocked fist, and before I knew it, I was in front of them, tearing the much larger man away from the girl cornered against a truck.

“Get the fuck away from her!”

The two of us collided against another car, and I was both shocked and grateful that the alarm didn’t sound as a result of the force with which we hit it. Unfortunate flashbacks to my most recent physical altercations plagued my thoughts, and I felt that pesky darkness swell in my chest at the sight of him laughing at my reaction to (y/n)’s abuse.

“This isn’t any of your business, man, you need to walk away.” It sounded just as disgusting as his slurred nonsense, and I wanted nothing more than to wipe the grin off his face.

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t give into the urge to smash this man’s head against the glass window of a stranger’s car because in the background I heard a shrill, tired voice begging for my attention.

“Spencer…”

I immediately turned to her when her tiny hand clung to my jacket. I should have looked at her longer. I should have abandoned the stupid piece of shit at the other end of my hands and held her, instead. But I couldn’t quiet the rage that was still building as he spoke again.

“Oh, hold up, hold up!” He said with a growing enthusiasm before he confidently declared, “You’re _Spencer Reid_.”

I felt my nostrils flare and my jaw clench at the use of my name. He said it with such an obvious disdain, an apparent mockery, it brought my blood to a boil.

“Or, what was it? Dr. Reid? Well, either way, it’s so nice to finally meet you in person.” Although pinned against the car by my hands on his jacket, he still raised a hand between us to offer to shake hands. Even if I wasn’t a germaphobe, I would never want to touch him for any reason beyond keeping him away from her.

Leaning forward, all I could smell was the most repulsive mix of sweat and liquor. It was nauseating and dizzying, and I wanted nothing more than to get away from it and him as soon as humanly possible.

“I’m taking her home, and you’re going to call a cab and leave by yourself.” I said lowly, relying on the girl still clutching my jacket to hold me back from the abyss I desperately wanted to throw myself into.

“What are you, her dad? Is that what she’s in to now?” He mocked, cocking his head to the side in an attempt to look around me. But I wasn’t planning on him ever getting the chance to see her ever again, and so my head followed to block the view.

But I was soon distracted again, (y/n)’s small tugs gaining speed and force as she cried, “I’m sorry, Spencer.” I winced at the sound, and my body held tight to the hatred and the man I wanted to take it out on.

“Please, Spencer. I’m so sorry.” She didn’t say it, but I heard her plea. She was asking me to stop the cycle of violence – to let go of this man who deserved none of my mercy and take her home without any more pain.

Letting go of him was the hardest thing I’d ever done, but I did it. Pushing him back against the truck with one last shove, I stepped back and reached an arm around her as I did so. “Don’t apologize.” I whispered, turning around to see her up close for the first time that night.

Her face was puffy from the mixture of alcohol and tears that were most evident by the smeared makeup all over her cheeks. Brushing the loose strands of hair from her face, I waited for her to look me in the eyes again before I handed her my keys.

“Go get in my car.”

She didn’t want to leave my side, but I wasn’t entirely done with the man behind us yet. It wasn’t enough to me that I got her away from him now; I wanted him to never see her again. I wanted to wipe him from her life so that he would never get a chance to see her smile again. He didn’t deserve it.

Once she’d weighed her current options, she turned and took off in the direction of my car. I was just glad to see she was still coordinated enough to do that. I guess I could thank her fight or flight for that one, at least.

“Don’t tell her what to do.” A low voice bellowed behind me in a dramatically late fashion. His own perception was so altered that by the time he spoke again, she was out of both of our sights and safe in the passenger side of my car. Remembering why he was angry in the first place, the man raised the side of his mouth in a grimace. “You’re no better than me.”

I might have believed him before I met (y/n). Honestly, a lot of my life was spent wondering if I was truly as good as people told me I was. That voice in my head that begged me to destroy this man was still there in that moment. But on top of it, I heard her. I remembered every time she’d ever told me that I was a good man, a gentle man. A man worth falling in love with.

But I wasn’t confident enough or stupid enough to bare my soul to a man who only wanted to punish us both for being happy in the same world that he was so miserable in. So, I returned that stupid fucking smirk he had on his face with my own, tucking my hands into my pockets and straightening my posture to look him in the eyes.

“Maybe I’m not. But there is one thing that’s very different about us. Do you know what it is?”

He stared at me with a genuine curiosity, although he swayed in place, barely able to stay upright. And despite all the ugliness around me, my heart was full of the horrible mixture of pain and love. Because when it came down to it, (y/n) had called me. When she wasn’t sure if we were even still friends and she knew I was with someone else, I was still the first person that came to her mind when she needed help.

I summarized that feeling in what I’d hoped would be the most painful delivery for the man who never got that from her. “I don’t have to hurt her for her to want me.”

It wasn’t that I couldn’t evade the punch that was immediately thrown; it was more like it didn’t matter whether it connected – which it did. But even as my face was forced to one side, the smile never left it. Sucking my lip into my mouth, I licked off the blood from where the skin had split and turned back to the now horrified face of (y/n)’s ex-boyfriend.

Of all the different punches I’d taken in my life, this one was easy. I couldn’t even feel the pain that should be blossoming over my cheekbone, and the iron in my mouth didn’t repulse me like it should have. I gathered it together and spit on his shoe before I concluded, “Yeah. Pathetic.”

He didn’t stop me then. I walked away with no more encumbrances beyond the hole in my heart that begged me not to get my hopes up. But they had already slipped from my hands like a helium balloon held by a child.

When I got to the car, (y/n) was asleep. She hadn’t even managed to put her seatbelt on before she gave in to the exhaustion. It wasn’t the first time I’d taken care of her, and I didn’t mind if it wasn’t going to be the last. I just wanted her to be okay.

The drive over was quiet except for the soft sounds of her breath. I found them more comforting than I should have. With every glance over at her, I was overwhelmed by the urge to brush her hair from her face and hold her. I wanted to wipe away the old, smudged make up and kiss her until she smiled again. I shouldn’t have wanted any of those things, but I did. I wanted them more than I needed to breathe.

She woke up when I pulled into her driveway, although she was still barely aware of her surroundings. It required an astounding combined effort to get her out of the car and into her apartment. So much of me didn’t want to leave her alone at all that night, but I knew it wouldn’t be worth the explanations in the morning. I settled on getting her safe in bed.

It wasn’t like she’d remember, anyway.

Before I could get her into her bed, she stopped me. I knew I should have pressed her to keep going; that talking to her in this state wasn’t fair to either of us. Nothing good could come from her drunkenly spilling her heart out to me. She’d done it before, and when the next morning came and she hadn’t remembered a thing… I didn’t want that to happen again. But when she started to talk, I couldn’t stop her anymore.

“I’m so fucking stupid, Spencer.” She mumbled, rubbing her eyes that were already dripping with tears that had formed in a matter of seconds.

 _Would it be wrong for me to hold her_?

I couldn’t decide, so I just placed a hand on her shoulder and we both pretended like it was there to stabilize her. “No, you’re not.” I reassured her, running my hand down her arm until I got to her hand. When I hesitated to hold it, she made the decision for me. Her grip was unforgiving, her whole arm trembling from the force exerted.

“ _Why_ did I do that?”

There were so many things she could have been referencing, and I had no way of knowing which to respond to. Deciding it was the most temporally adjacent, I shook my head. “It’s not your fault. He’s the one who made the decision to hurt you.”

Her sniffles sounded so loud. The room was dark and still smelled exactly how I remembered it. It felt wrong to be there again, but only as wrong as I could feel with her. I always felt completely at home when her hand was in mine.

She shook her head, too, frustrated by her inability to formulate the necessary words as quickly as she wanted. Shaking her free hand in the air between us, her body bounced with energy she really had no business using in her state. But it was like all her emotions had grown tired of being bottled up and were trying to escape her weary figure all at once.

“I’m not talking about tonight, Spencer.” She finally whispered, choking on my name as she started to sway. “Why did I do that to you?”

I didn’t trust myself to hold her, so I just watched her body move in the darkness. Even still, her hand felt so warm and inviting that I almost missed her words.

“Why did I hurt you for loving me?”

It still hit me like a ton of bricks, to hear her utter that word in relation to the two of us. My whole body tensed, my eyes closing to hide from the pain that my brain forced me to recall at her reference. Once I was able to push them aside, I opened them again to find her staring at me exactly like she used to.

I hesitate to describe the way she looked at me for fear of getting it wrong, but it was the same look that made me question every time she ever told me that ‘we’ meant nothing to her. Because when I looked in her eyes, I never saw nothing. I saw an entire universe that stretched into the infinite space that only existed when we held each other. I felt the security and joy that bloomed in her presence like morning glories at sunrise.

There was love in those eyes, too, but I could never be sure if it was just my own affection reflected in hers.

My hand came to rest on her face, and she immediately pressed her cheek against it. She sighed, the noise weak and shaky.

“(Y/n)…” And she looked up at me again, her eyes begging me to do something to help her.

The worst part was, I wanted to. I wanted to help the pain go away so badly for the both of us that when she leaned forward and closed the gap between us, I didn’t try to stop her. Our lips touched without any hesitance or ambivalence. We kissed just like we always had; comfortably and earnestly.

She ran her hand through my hair, and I held her close, too. The blood from my busted lip and the ethanol on her tongue should have been unpleasant, but I couldn’t be bothered to notice. Because to me, she always tasted like the sweetest peaches at the height of spring.

I shouldn’t have kissed her. I knew the second her lips touched mine that it was a terrible idea. I was the one to pull away, although it took me longer than I wanted to admit. It wasn’t until I tasted salt on my lips that I realized she wasn’t the only one crying. She wouldn’t look at me, her eyes stuck to the floor between us.

“Do you still love me?”

She was afraid. Of what exactly, it was unclear. But the one thing I knew she never needed to worry about were my feelings for her.

“Yes.” I said confidently, still holding onto her face so that I could guide it back to me. I didn’t kiss her again, knowing how unfair it would have been. But I held her close enough that I could press my forehead against hers and feel her breath on my face. “I will always love you.”

“I don’t deserve that.” She immediately replied.

Not letting her stray too far, I held her in place for just a moment longer, making sure that she felt the force behind the words. I opened my eyes to look into hers once again. “I don’t care.” I mumbled, watching the way she tried to convince herself that I was lying.

But it was true. Of course, I felt she deserved love more than anyone I’d ever known, but even if she didn’t, I wouldn’t care. I would love her, anyway.

She didn’t answer me. Her eyes fluttered shut before any words came to her, and I caught her limp body in my arms. Somehow it was easier to get her in bed when she was asleep. I guessed it was because the emotions we felt were heavier than the dead weight of her. She would have laughed at that joke if she’d been awake to hear it.

I left her in the bed so that I could gather supplies for the raging hangover she’d undoubtedly have in the morning, and it was strange to move around her space again. I knew it was a violation of her privacy, but it felt so natural to be there.

Walking back into her room felt even more so. I slowly set the medicine and water down on the nightstand, moving towards the bed like she would wake up at the smallest sound. That was a ridiculous thought, though. She was out cold. But that just made me want to touch her more; to make sure that she was okay. To make sure that whatever fantasy her mind wove was a happy one. I hoped that I was there, too.

But reality wasn’t a dream, and I had to leave. I couldn’t stay any longer because if I did, I was scared I would never want to go. I reached out a cautious hand to touch her but decided against it at the last second.

 _It would be wrong for me to hold her_.

We had already done too many things wrong for one night. She’d gone through so much pain before I showed up, and then I’d just made everything worse. I’d dredged up the ugly mess between us and now I was just… running away.

I didn’t want her to have to feel the way I felt. So, before I finally turned to shut the door, I picked up her phone. I resisted the urge to feel terrible for being relieved that her passcode was still the same. The blood rushing in my ears and the unsteady motions of my fingers should have alerted me that I was making a mistake, but I couldn’t stop myself. With one final tap, I deleted my name from her call history.

It wasn’t like she’d remember, anyway.

—

So much had changed over the course of the year. Everyone kept telling me that the time would fly by as I got older, but this year hardly felt like that. I could pretend like it was something to do with the job, but I knew the real reason time stretched ad nauseam.

It had been six months since I fought with Spencer.

I shouldn’t have wished for more fighting, but a part of me did. I wished that we could fight again because at least then I would know that I still meant something to him. Honestly, things had been weird between us for months, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why. It was like one day I’d woken up to find that things were slowly slipping back to normal.

But they weren’t normal. It was just different enough to be unsettling. _Frustrating_. It almost felt like he’d forgiven me, and I felt this unexplainable pressure to move past the fight we’d never actually discussed. But whatever epiphany had led to Spencer’s willingness to move on, I didn’t share it. I was angry. At him? Maybe, I wasn’t really sure. I was just angry, and I didn’t want to be anymore.

It was New Year’s Eve and I was alone in my room, staring up at the ceiling and wishing that I had someone beside me. Although I acted like anyone would do, they wouldn’t. There was only one man I wanted to end the year with, and I was certain that he was spending it with someone who was much happier to see him.

He hadn’t talked about her in a long time. I figured he was just trying to spare my feelings. We both knew it killed me to think of him with someone else, however unfair that was.

I closed my eyes to hopefully end the year quietly, to drift off into a fit of restless sleep and wake up like any other day. But as soon as my eyelids closed, I heard the rattling of my phone vibrating on my bedside table. It was made louder by the fact that my discarded ring sat next to it. I’d never put it away.

There was no reason for me to believe that the call was from Spencer. Aside from wishful thinking, there was no other indication that he would call me at 10:50PM on New Year’s Eve. When I turned my phone over, my stomach knotted into nothing.

 _Spencer_.

“Hello?” I answered, trying to sound as apathetic as possible while my heart tried to pound its way through my ribs.

“I’m at your front door. Let me in.”

That was all he said before the line cut off. I sat up, staring down at my home screen for way too long before I looked at my call history to confirm it had actually happened at all. Sure enough, his name was staring back at me.

It was the fastest I’d ever made it out of my bed and to my front door. Still, by the time I made it to the door, Spencer was covered in snow, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes looking everywhere but at me. 

“Spencer, what are you doing here?”

He closed his eyes to avoid me longer. When he went to brush the snow from his hair, he nearly fell over. My hands shot out to grab him and I was shocked to feel just how cold he was. He had to have been standing out here for much longer than it had taken me to answer the door.

“…Are you _drunk_?”

“No, not really.” He shot back defensively, taking a deep breath and steadying himself, “I… I-I only had a couple drinks.”

I didn’t want to hear his story. I was sure that it would have made me feel bad for him, and I wasn’t particularly in the mood to do that tonight. “Why are you here?” I asked, wishing that I didn’t sound so resigned.

“It’s New Year’s Eve.” He said like it was an answer to my question.

“Did you book a fucking appointment?”

When he finally looked at me, there was an obvious frustration and despondency in his eyes. “Please, I don’t have anywhere else to go.” His voice shook along with the shivers spreading throughout his body. He should have known better, considering how often he’d told me about alcohol lowering your body temperature.

I didn’t want him to come inside. If he came inside, I knew what would happen.

“Why don’t you go to your girlfriend’s house?” I spat, propping the door further open in a rather contradictory fashion. I just hated to see him look so pitiful, and I wasn’t going to warm him up myself. The least I could offer was the residual heat of my home.

“We broke up.”

I heard the words, but they didn’t register. They broke up? When? Why? I willed my frantic heart to quiet in my chest, but it just screamed louder. It was annoying, really, to have my head and heart argue opposite stances all the time.

“Then go home.” I muttered, staring at the ground between us and noticing all the shoe marks from where he’d obviously paced back and forth for an inordinate amount of time.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.” He begged, finally stepping forward and almost closing the distance between us. Instead, he raised his arm to lean against the door frame. Ever since he looked in my eyes, it was like he couldn’t stop anymore. “You were the only person I could think to call.”

It was those eyes that got to me. My heart won.

“… Just get inside. You shouldn’t be driving.”

While it was obvious that he wasn’t nearly as drunk as we used to be when we shared my bed, it still took him a while to stumble into the familiar landscape and remove his winter clothes. The whole time, I just watched him silently. For once, I think neither of us really knew what to say.

If you’d asked me before, I would have told you that the roles would be reversed. I would be the one showing up at his door, desperately seeking out the affection I didn’t deserve. Then again, I guess that isn’t what happened between us. Spencer never really did anything wrong. Unless you counted falling in love with me something wrong; which, I did.

He wordlessly followed me through the halls until we ended up back in my bedroom. Don’t ask me why I led him there – it was some mixture of muscle memory and a longing to hold him much the same as I had at the beginning of the year. It felt safe there, sitting on my bed with him. 

“Why did you break up?” I asked, fiddling with the hem of the t-shirt I’d thrown on to answer his call.

He barely looked at me before he turned his attention back to the wall, mumbling a soft, solemn, “You know why.”

“I really don’t.”

“It was because of you.”

For someone who’d danced around the topic literally seconds before, he was very confident in his answer. And although I could tell from the way he said it that it was the truth, it wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear. Sure, I’d spent months pining after him silently and with a bitchy demeanor, but underneath all of that displeasure was a genuine desire for Spencer to be happy.

Had I ruined that, too?

“Me?” I scoffed, “What did I do?”

Spencer didn’t answer at first. In his eye’s wandering, they had landed on the same object that had alerted me of his phone call. He picked up the ring, rolling it between his fingers for a second before laughing.

“You really have no idea, huh?”

It sounded like something I should have known. His laugh was bittersweet; filled with longing and nostalgia and something else. I could feel the tension quickly filling the air when the ring hit the wood again. Turning his attention back to me, Spencer licked his lips like he was about to say something, but he never did. His mouth hung open and his eyes narrowed as he stared at me like he was recalling a memory I didn’t have.

“Enlighten me.” I said, leaning forward and smelling the familiar whiskey on his breath.

Any attempts to remember what it tasted like to kiss him were redundant, because within a few seconds, that’s exactly what he did. Spencer grabbed my face with so much force I’m surprised it wasn’t a less graceful kiss. But then again, we’d had plenty of practice.

Things moved so quickly as soon as our lips connected, our bodies like magnets that physically had no choice but to draw closer to each other. While my hands quickly worked to remove his clothes, his were much busier trying to roam over every inch of skin that he could reach. 

Seconds after I’d successfully unbuttoned his shirt, he pushed me back against the bed. There was no hesitancy or worry in my body, doing whatever he asked of it. As he removed his pants, I watched the necklace I’d bought him bounce against his chest with each movement.

He joined me quickly, his mouth finding mine with just as much passion as it had before. Six months of pent up desire was pouring out of us, and I was ready to be swept up in the undertow. We only broke apart so that he could remove my shirt, leaving the two of us bare before each other for the first time in what felt like forever.

Well, almost bare. As he kissed me, I felt the gentle tickling of the charm on his necklace against my neck. Without thinking, my hand came up to grab the delicate chain. Spencer froze, opening his eyes to try to figure out if he’d done something wrong in wearing it here. It was such a visual reminder of everything we’d ever had – the good and the bad. I tried to stay focused on the good.

“This stupid fucking chain.” I laughed, toying with it similar to how he’d played with our ring. I bit my lip, looking up with a mischievous smile. “Every time you fuck me and it drags across my chest I just want to tear it off of you.”

“I can take it off.” He offered, just as sad as I’d expected him to be. But he shouldn’t have been sad about it; the tearing it off of him was the wrong part of the sentence to focus on.

“Don’t you dare.” I muttered, pulling just hard enough to cause resistance to urge him back to my lips. With a low, hungry rasp, I whispered against his lips, “Fuck me, instead.”

There was no need for him to argue with the instruction. His hand between us took its time down my stomach, settling against my sex before he slowly ran a finger through my folds. I cried out at the contact, my body remembering him so vividly, reacting on instinct.

Still, there was a question burning in my mind that prevented me from being here with him. It was powerful enough that it forced me to turn my head away from him to free me from our kiss. He slipped a finger inside of me, his sigh hitting my cheek when my back arched against him.

“Did you fuck her like you fucked me?” I blurted out, closing my eyes out of fear that I would see him lie to me. But when he didn’t answer, I opened them to find him waiting.

“No.” It was the truth.

Breathlessly, and with his ministrations continuing, I wrapped my legs around his waist. “Why not?” I panted, wishing that he didn’t need a hand to hold him up so that he could touch me more.

Spencer’s mouth twitched into a small smile, his words becoming slurred with a pain I understood. “I wasn’t in love with her.” He croaked, blinking to rid the tears pooling at the bottom of his lashes.

I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t. I ran my hands through his hair, still damp from the snow, and pulled him back to me. My own jealousy blended together with the relief I felt at having him in my arms again. It was my own fault he’d ever strayed; I should just be grateful that I got the chance to be here with him again. Even if it was just for one night.

I didn’t dare ask if it was just for one night. The answer would break my heart either way. I could tell by the look on his face when we separated again that Spencer felt the same. A second finger entered me while he watched me, his breath heavy and wild.

“Tell me that you want me.” He pleaded. The request caught me off guard, and for a minute all I could do was stare back at him with a mouth filled with wanton moans. More desperately, his voice raw with emotion, he continued, “ **Tell me that I’m better than him**.”

The realization washed over me and took my breath with it. I wanted to give him the reassurance he sought, but my brain was turned to mush by the way his hands remembered exactly how to drive me over the edge.

“I want you.” I vaguely replied, my eyes struggling to stay open between the sloppy kisses he laid on my jaw.

“I want to hear you say it.” He corrected, his fingers curling inside of me to elicit more dramatic mewls from me.

“You’re the only one I want, Spencer.” I sobbed, my body shaking, begging him for more. He was more than happy to give it, but not before his hand retreated. He dragged it down my thigh, positioning himself at my entrance.

“I need you.” It felt like a confession, the words repeating on my lips. “I need you, Spencer. It’s always been you.”

With one swift thrust, he entered me all at once. His head fell forward and he groaned into my ear. The hand holding him up slipped below my head so that our bodies were impossibly closer. “God, I missed you.” He slurred, more so drunk on the heat of the moment than the little alcohol still left in his system.

“I missed you, too.” I didn’t know how strongly I felt until I spoke the words out loud. It was suffocating.

But Spencer seemed like he was breathing better now than he ever had before, beginning to move in shallow thrusts when he spoke again. “It’s been so long since I got to touch you like this.”

My mind filled with flashes of every night over the past six months that we’d laid in separate beds in the same room. I thought of all the times it felt like he was watching me when my eyes were closed. I remembered each instance where his eyes lingered during quiet moments on the jet or during late office nights.

“Tell me what else you missed.” I demanded in an attempt to clear my thoughts of the sadness that was gnawing at me below the surface. Spencer appeared to also be trapped in the same loop of memories, but he was much better at navigating it than I was. I suspected he was used to it.

“The way you say my name when I’m between your legs.” He said as his force increased, our bodies sliding against the sheets. He laughed as my nails dragged across the skin of his back, starting at the back of his neck where the golden reminder hung. “I missed the scratch marks you leave everywhere you can reach.”

I chuckled, too, beginning to rock my hips along with him. The harmony that our bodies found was so effortless that it was the first thing to ever make me believe in soulmates.

His hand slid over the outside of my thigh that was cling to him. He guided my leg away to grant him better access, which he immediately took advantage of. Slamming into me with enough force to draw a scream from my chest, his fingers dug into my thigh. “How your legs shake when I’m buried inside of you.” He teased.

My hands had become dangerous, no longer violently creating welts on his skin. No, they were gently caressing his face. His stubble felt so familiar, despite having changed since the last time I held him. I was inspecting him so closely that I forgot he could see me, too. It felt like a dream, being here with him.

When his hand grabbed my wrist, I thought he would tell me to stop. I was terrified that he could see the adoration in my eyes and was ready to tell me that this could never happen again. He would see how badly I needed him, and he would leave.

But that’s not what he did. With a tenderness so overwhelming I couldn’t breathe while he spoke, he dragged his lips over my cheek. “I missed saying your name. I missed the way it feels to hold you.”

I held tighter to him now, my hands sliding over his neck and into his hair. My heavy breathing in his ear didn’t slow him down in the slightest, his hips continuing to rock into me.

Choking on tears I could feel on my face, his motions got more violent while his words got softer. Driving into me with full force, he cried, “For months I’ve had to pretend like—like half of me wasn’t missing. But _you were_.”

“Spencer…” I warned, my last attempt to stop us from crossing the line that we’d been toeing for a year. But Spencer didn’t care, pulling back and dropping his hand to hold me against him as he buried himself inside me.

“If this is the last time you ever let me touch you, please, just… Let me say it.” He said through clenched teeth, an insistent heartache in his eyes.

I wanted to say something more eloquent. I wanted to tell him that this wouldn’t be the last time; that he could always have me whenever he wanted me. But I couldn’t tell him that. Even as he was here, threatening to tell me that he loved me, all I could say was, “Okay.”

His shoulders dropped in relief, his thrusts becoming rhythmic once again. He didn’t say it at first, waiting until we’d fallen back into the throes of longing before he whispered into our kiss.

“I love you.”

My entire body broke out in goosebumps, my back arching against him and my hands pulling his mouth harder against mine. I tried to kiss him, but he couldn’t contain the words anymore now that they had been said. Through a moan, he repeated it over and over again. “Fuck, I love you. I love you so much.”

Our bodies were meeting with such force now that I thought we might never be able to separate the same again. I wanted to feel it. I wanted him to become a part of me so that I could never exist without him again. “Spencer!” I gasped, feeling the way his motions shifted as we neared the end.

“I’ll love you forever. Until the day I die, until the universe turns to dust and nothing else matters, I will _still_ love you.” He couldn’t stop, but I needed him to. I needed him to be quiet for just a moment.

I reached up, my hand covering his mouth. He closed his eyes, taking the gesture to mean that I didn’t want to hear his words any longer. But that wasn’t it at all. “I-I need to tell you something.” I said with a shaky voice. “Please, Spencer.”

He turned his head, uncovering his mouth. He tried not to let my words change his movements, but they did. They filled with a possessiveness and a yearning for something he had sought after for a long time.

“Don’t lie to me.” He ordered, looking down at me with those amber eyes that drowned me every time. I could never lie to those eyes; he knew that. Because even if I did, he would be able to see it clear as day. Just like he did that night I’d lied and told him that he was the only one of us that had fallen in love.

He deserved to hear it.

“I love you.” I sobbed, locking eyes with him as I did. I forced my eyes to stay open, wanting to remember every second of this. And it was beautiful, the way Spencer’s entire body gave into the feeling we’d avoided for so long.

“I love you.” I repeated just so he could hear it again. The catharsis was so powerful, that when he reached down to touch me as his motions finally began to slow, it took almost no time before I was falling over the edge. My whole body tightened around him, bringing him into me with all I had. And although I’d loved him for a long time, it felt differently having said it. His embrace felt like home.

Spencer finished soon after me, burying himself as deeply as he could one more time and filling me with a warmth that I had never been able to find with anyone else. I somehow clung even tighter, nearly suffocating him in the crook of my neck when he collapsed against me.

As soon as he could gather enough strength to move, he used it to hold me. Eventually, he separated our bodies. The bed never felt so cold. But he didn’t go far, turning and flopping onto the bed beside me. Even six months later, he still insisted on sleeping in his spot. When he looked over at me, I was wearing the stupidest smile.

“Do you still love me?” He joked, still catching his breath while trying not to let his excitement show any more than mine did.

I didn’t like that, so I cuddled up to his side, running my hand over his face until he had a grin just as goofy as my own. Once I was satisfied, I promised him something I’d ignored for far too long. “I’m not as poetic as you, Spencer Reid, but I can assure you with the highest confidence that I will love you forever.”

Although he didn’t say it back, I saw it in his eyes. That full-faced smile drew back, and he looked down to our hands tangled together on his chest. Without any other explanation, he turned away without letting go.

When he returned, he held my hand just as delicately as he had on July 15th. The familiar ring slipped onto my finger so easily, finding its way back home.

“Wear it again. Please.” He begged, holding my hand as his eyes scanned over me one more time. I didn’t know what he thought he saw, but I was glad that he would be able to remember it forever. Because that was the beginning of something that I’d never let go of.

It was the face of the woman he loved, ready to unapologetically love him for the rest of eternity.

“Okay,” I whispered, “I will.”


End file.
